Itinerary
by Lizard Pie
Summary: Being a gym leader had its high and low points. Unfortunately, the low points tended to take up the most time.


"If you'll all turn to page 36…"

Allister, for the millionth time in the last hour, was very thankful the mask hid his facial expression. His therapist would probably insist that it was real progress for him to be bored and antsy instead of anxious around so many people. Certainly didn't feel like progress, though.

The list of obligations for a gym leader was massive. They were to have four teams at minimum to cover any level of challenger, since only the total (and not the order) of badges mattered. A backup team for each was not mandatory (but so strongly suggested that it practically was).

From there was a minimum quota of appearances which included interviews, autographs, and public works. Junior trainers had to be mentored and monitored. Facilities needed to be maintained and updated. Since they were a major tourism draw for their respective cities as much as their gyms, they were expected to regularly advertise through media and public exhibitions.

And, somewhere in that, challengers needed to be battled.

Since he and Bea were still in school, they'd been given a larger than normal management team and a reduced load of responsibilities. Of course, when one was expected to have 20+ Pokemon ready to go at any time while still maintaining a public persona, "reduced" was a relative term.

After fans found out where he went to school, and became increasingly intrusive about it, he switched to an in-home tutor. And that shouldn't have changed anything else about his life, since the amount of school work certainly wasn't different. But the gym manager hadn't agreed. His hours were now adjustable, she reasoned, so he should be more active in the day-to-day management of the gym.

That included meetings, even if his input wasn't needed or wanted. It mostly seemed like he had to be there because it was the perfect time to make suggestions.

"There will also need to be a limit on risky training methods," the manager said. She looked down her sharp nose at him, and continued once she was sure Allister was looking at her. "The swimming with Frillish, using a Drifblim to scale the cliffs. I'm not even sure what you were doing with all those Gastly you were with last week. But you could easily have died every time."

Allister mused about what a flying specialist would say about being told they were to train a league-ready team while never going airborne, or a water specialist never being allowed to go into the water.

He had to stop himself from snickering at the idea of Nessa being told that. She'd launch into a tirade full of words he couldn't even repeat in his head.

His manager had probably been a normal specialist, he decided. She certainly acted like one, and didn't understand ghosts like one. He wondered what would happen if she found out he'd let his team feed off him more than once. Probably wouldn't matter that this was standard for ghosts specialists, mandatory even with some species and situations. She might even try to make him switch specialties!

Which was ridiculous.

Unless she could actually make him do that.

She couldn't do that, right?

Unless she could.

…It was probably best not to test it.

She seemed to have taken his silence as agreement to her demands. So, at least, that was good he supposed.

The meeting moved onto technical aspects of plumbing, pricing, and seemingly a million other bits of running a gym that Allister didn't understand and nobody bothered to explain.

He slid down in his chair. The kids at school were on break right then. He'd never been terribly physical, or terribly social for that matter, but it would have been nice to see least stretch with kids his age instead of listening to…

Allister sat up a bit as he caught a glimpse out the window. Clouds gathered over the cliffs, significantly more quickly than the weather report had said they would. That meant strong winds from the south, so-

"The meeting is not dismissed," the gym manager said, sharply, as he stood up.

In his best effort to sound confident, and maybe even a little smug, he said "Gym Leader business."

His heart pounded heavily in his chest as he strode out as if he didn't hear her continuing to object. It didn't relax one bit, and he had to fight his breath to stay calm, as he left the gym entirely.

He would pay for that, there was no way that he wouldn't, but being outside still felt better. His stress melted away, enough for him to even crack into a smile, when he heard a desperate but utterly familiar whistle.

He returned it and headed into the town.

Ghost Pokemon were different from all other types, and that threw a lot of people off. It terrified them that many acted so human, made worse by the fact many had been once, so they let their imaginations make Pokemon into demons. It was the sort of attitude that filled their entries with things like "allegedly" and "some say", and suggested that they were blanket causes of death rather than just being attracted to the dying.

It was the sort of attitude that made life for a Gastly blown far away from home so dangerous. People would rather chase them off (or worse) than let them hide and survive the night. And now that Galar was headed into the stormy season, it'd happen more and more often.

Allister whistled his way through town. The Gastly whistled back as they followed him best they could. He led them to a lean-to against his home, with an entry large enough for them to get in and out, but too small for a significant amount of wind to follow.

As the Gastly rushed in, they brushed against him gently and affectionately. The poison tingled against his arm.

He grinned behind the mask. "Sleep well. I'll get you home safe tomorrow, okay?"

There was grateful agreement from inside. Allister tapped the leanto and headed back to the gym. He'd probably have to do two or three more trips that night, to try and make sure none of them were blown over the water. Once they hit ocean winds, there was a strong chance that they'd never make it back to Galar at all.

Someone had to help them. And, since nobody else got ghost types, it was up to him.

Until then, he was scheduled for a few hours of "safe" training. Of course, there was no such thing as safe when you were around a Gigantamax'd Gengar, and he regularly worked with 5 of them. But he'd be firmly in the arena, so he was sure the gym manager couldn't object even if she realized that.

And if she tried, well, he might not have known how to handle pricing but Allister knew that he was the best Galar had for ghost types. If he put his foot down on training, the league would back him up.

He was pretty sure, anyway.

Probably best not to test that, either, though.


End file.
